


Erebor Academy for the Utterly Hopeless

by Stonnn



Series: Tweenaged Wasteland [1]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Erebor Academy, F/F, Female Bilbo, Female Fíli, Female Kíli, Female Ori, Female Thorin Oakenshield, M/M, Pretty Much Everyone Is School Aged, Thorin & Frerin & Dís & Fíli & Kíli Are Siblings, rating will increase, vaguely steampunk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-09 23:09:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5559263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stonnn/pseuds/Stonnn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arabella Baggins is the first hobbit ever to attend Erebor Academy. She's also fairly sure she's the first hobbit to wear shoes, the first hobbit to fall in love with a dwarf, and the first hobbit to kill a dragon. She does not know which of these things is most significant.</p><p>Probably the dragon one? Right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Which One Does Not Simply Walk To Erebor

**Author's Note:**

> So! This is happening! I guess! 
> 
> I haven't written fic in years, so I'm a little nervous. But I was playing with some dress up games at azaleasdolls.com and. This idea just popped into my head? It was originally more Harry Potter and less Gossip Girl, but whatever.
> 
> I futzed with some relationships because I wanted certain characters to be school aged, so for instance, Fíli and Kíli are the younger twin sisters of Thorin, Frerin, and Dís.
> 
> The setting is weird. I just kinda. Picked something? It's Middle Earth, but like, there are trains and stuff? And also a lot of anachronisms, which is why I tagged it 'Vaguely Steampunk'. There's not like, airships or steam-powered corsets or whatever, and there sure as shit are not _bustles_ , but I like to pick and choose things from different time periods. If you got a problem with that, feel free to comment and tell me so. If I agree with you, I might even change it.
> 
> Also: ages. There is just so. Much. Differing information about the relative lifespans of the races of middle earth, and when they come of age, when they are physically/emotionally mature and let me tell you. I do not have time for that shit. So, for the sake of clarity, I give you this guide.
> 
>   * Hobbits come of age at 33. 
>   * Dwarves are considered physically mature at the age of 40, but not emotionally/mentally mature until about 65.
>   * Bella (Arabella) starts this story at 25, and I am considering this to be about equivalent to 15-16 for us humans.
>   * Thorin, Frerin, Dís, Fíli, and Kíli are all between the ages of 30-50. Which is like 14-22. Or, I don't know. Whatever.
>   * All the school-aged elves (god the elves) in this story should be considered fully mature physically, which occurs at about 50, unless otherwise noted (for instance, Elladan and Elrohir are closer to about 14 equivalent human years), but they don't mature mentally until about 100, so they're somewhere in that range. 
> 

> 
> Age is not going to be addressed directly in this story very often, so if you have questions about the relative ages of characters, ask me, and maybe I'll make a more detailed note.
> 
> I hope to (maybe maybe maybe) put up some illustrations, if not in the story itself then in separate works in this series, so keep an eye out I guess.
> 
> That's all I can think of for now. See you at the end!

Arabella Baggins received her acceptance letter to Erebor Academy on her 25th birthday. It lay on her kitchen table, next to her letter from Shireland Prepatorie. She’d been staring at them both for what seemed like hours, and may well have been, considering she could no longer feel her backside.

Until the former letter had arrived, she had been sure she’d be attending Shireland. Her mother and father had both gone to school there, all her friends (such as they were) were going there, it was only a half an hour by bicycle from her front door. They had the best Floriculture program in all of Middle Earth. And most of all, the Shire was her _home_.

But still…

She loved the Shire, she did, but ever since her parents had passed, since she’d been living alone, she’d had this itch at the bottoms of her hairy feet. While once she had been content sitting in front of their hearth, nursing a cup of tea, or kneeling in the dirt in her mother’s garden, she now found herself going on long walks through the Old Forest, or even riding to Bree to peruse the stalls of exotic foods and spices on Market Day.

Suffice to say she was behaving very un-Hobbitish.

Hobbits had lived for centuries in the Shire, and while the rest of the races of Middle Earth had long ago abandoned the strict isolationism that had defined them hundred of year ago, the same could not be said of hobbits. In fact, Arabella would have been surprised if there were more than one or two dozen hobbits living outside of the Shire or Breeland.

And yet, more and more, Arabella was longing to see the vast variety of Middle Earth, to see the lands her mother had seen before she settled and had a family. She had grown up with the stories of Rivendell, Minas Tirith, the woods of Lorien and the Woodland Realm, and the lake town of Esgaroth. Stories had been enough when she was a child, but now she was grown, a tween soon to enter adulthood, and she wanted to _explore._

And now here was her chance.

She picked up the letter from Erebor.

_Dear Miss Arabella Baggins,_

_We are very happy to accept your application to the prestigious Erebor Academy. You will find enclosed all necessary information regarding start of term, housing, and uniform._

_If you would like to decline or defer your place, please send a letter to the Erebor Dept. of Education no later than 21 July._

_Sincerely,_  
_Balin, son of Fundin_  
_Dean of Schools_  
_Erebor Academy_

On the next page, a handwritten note was stapled to a thick booklet.

_Miss Baggins,_

_I see that you have expressed an interest in our School of Healing and Medicine, and while you cannot join specific programs at Erebor Academy until your third year, I have enclosed some literature I believe you will find very informative._

_Looking forward to making your acquaintance,  
Balin, son of Fundin_

Arabella hadn’t yet looked at the booklet. She had a feeling that once she did, her mind would be made up.

 _Well,_ she thought, _a decision must be made eventually._ She would have to send her letter of declination in the next few days for it to arrive at Erebor by the end of Afterlithe.

She picked up the booklet, and went to sit out on her front step.

As she flipped through it, she would intermittently look up and glance down Bagshot Row toward Hobbiton Market. She could see families languishing on blankets on the hillsides, fauntlings rolling in the grass, or running between their parents’ legs. There was a pair of young lovers dipping their feet in the creek, and an elderly couple walking arm in arm over the bridge.

It was the very definition of idyllic.

Arabella smiled.

* * *

The morning of 10 September found Arabella rising from bed in her rented room in Dale. Her trolley had deposited her in the city at approximately 10 o’clock the previous evening, and she’d barely had the energy to find a decent inn before collapsing in her clothes and sleeping the night away.

She had managed to find a direct train from Bree to Rivendell, and then from Rivendell to Palace City in the Greenwoods, then a steamboat down the Forest River to Esgaroth, followed by a short (but terrifying) sky-trolley ride to Dale. All in all it had been a long week of travel, but what had truly exhausted her was the previous two months, sorting things out with her grandfather, the Thain of the Shire, packing, closing the house, arranging for an occasional housekeeper and a daily gardener, writing letters to distant relations, calling on friends, and finally, declining admittance to Shireland Prep.

The looks on the faces of the Board of Admission had been priceless. At first they had assumed her grandfather had decided to pay for private tutoring, but when they had heard she would be traveling to the Lonely Mountain for her education you could have knocked them over with a feather. To their knowledge, no hobbit had ever willingly traveled so far. (Point of fact; Arabella’s mother had, but hobbits preferred not to speak of Belladonna Baggins’ wild days.)

Arabella found out from her rather amused grandfather that just after she left them, the board had written him a rather strongly worded letter enquiring whether it was true he was allowing his tweenaged granddaughter to travel unchaperoned to the other side of the world to attend a _foreign school._

Old Took had told them to mind their own damn business.

For a short time after the death of both her parents during the Fell Winter, Arabella had been cared for by her uncle, Longo Baggins, and his wife Camellia Sackville. They had a son, Otho, about twenty years Arabella’s junior. They had moved into Bag End with their son, then about two years old, and had done their best to deal with the strange child, who had been left by this recent tragedy even stranger.

They rose gracefully to the unexpected situation, though a young couple with a new faunt found they did not have all the necessary skills for raising a tween. Arabella seemed to them to have only two modes of function; either she was listless and uncomunicative, spending hours staring at the walls of her father's study, or she was restless and reckless, disappearing for long streches of time, invariably returning with skinned knees, leaves in her hair, and once even a chipped tooth.

Eventually she seemed to find a sort of balance. She still spent much of her time in her father's study, though now it was spent reading, writing, and perusing old maps, rather than in a state of catatonia. And she still time every day wandering, though she contented herself with long bicycle rides, hikes, and walking tours, rather than misadventures in the woods. Camellia, who had begun to despair of the state Arabella's hair, clothes, and feet, was pleased to note that she began to take better care of herself, and of her home. In addition to her reading and wandering, Arabella began mending and mopping, cooking, even occasionally sitting down with her aunt and tatting some lace. She regained her appetite, her face had a healthy glow to it from then on.

However, despite, or perhaps because of, her recent improvement, only a year after the death of her mother and father, Arabella Baggins had ridden down to Michel Delving to petition the mayor for emancipation, which was granted. The Sackville-Baggins family were able to resume their life not far from Bagshot Row, and had a standing invitation to tea at Bag End, which they were sure to accept at least three times a week.

In any case, Arabella had always been supremely independant, and so the Board of Admissions ought to have seen it coming.

These and other recent memories ran through her head as she washed, dressed, and carefully pulled back her hair. She wore traditional Shire clothes of a blouse, fabric corset, and a knee-length loose skirt. Adding to that her mother's locket, her father's coat, and her best ivory ear cuffs, she thought she looked rather respectable. Though she imagined tht by the time she got to Erebor, her ankles would be rather dusty.

She packed up her trunk, lugged it down the stairs, and stopped to ask the inn's proprieter the best way to the mountain.

"Easiest way's by sky-trolley, theres a station at the market," he informed her.

Arabella blanched. "Oh no, I hate sky-trolleys. Couldn't I just walk? It can't be far." She remembered all too vividly the sight of the ground dropping away and the rocking and rattling of her short trolley journey the night before.

"It's farther than you'd think," he said, shaking his head. "And it's nearly an hour and a half, walking."

Arabella supressed a groan. She had to be there in an hour for registration, and she despised being late. Seeing there was nothing else for it, she headed toward the market station.

* * *

_Don't throw up, don't throw up, don't throw up,_ she repeated to herself silently. She was clutching the edge of her seat, determinedly not looking at the window, or anything at all. She had clenched her eyes shut as soon as they had started moving, and had resolved not to open them until they announced the stop in Erebor.

The person sitting next to her adjusted their seat, and she was sure she felt the entire car sway with the motion. She suddenly felt a little faint.

"Afraid of heights?" came a voice from beside her. Arabella jumped and looked up at her neighbor. Accidentally catching sight of treetops through the window, she winced.

"What gave it away?" she asked dryly. The person beside her was a dwarf, young, perhaps tweenaged by Shire standards, with brown hair braided into pigtails, a rather floppy hat, and the beginnings of dark whiskers coming in under their nose and mouth.

"The shivering with fear might have tipped me off a bit."

"I was _not_ shivering."

"Agree to disagree," they stated, laughing. They stuck out their hand. "Bofur, son of Bogur."

She shook it. "Arabella Baggins."

"So, Bella, what brings you to the Lonely Mountain?"

"Arabella, and I'm going to be attending Erebor Academy."

Bofur laughed. "Me too! My brother is already up there, but I had to run back to Dale for- er... for something I forgot."

Arabella glanced at the trunk standing on end next to his seat. "You forgot your _luggage?"_ she exclaimed.

"In my defense, Bombur woke me up terribly early! I hadn't even realized we were at the mountain until we were in our dormitory and he was asking me where my trunk was!"

The rest of the trip passed in laughter as they exchanged stories and jokes, and in excitement as they speculated about their new life in the mountain.

Before long, the trolley came to a nearly seamless halt which Arabella hardly noticed, and the doors slid open. They stepped out into a large station, windowless yet still brightly lit with a somewhat eerie greenish-blue luminescence. Not far ahead stood a gilded sign saying,

> _Welcome to Erebor_  
>  Erebor Academy Registration this way  
> 

They followed the arrow down a long corridor and up a flight of stairs, finally reaching, after several twists and turns, a small chamber with a line of tables along one side, and a row of seated dwarves along one side. There were a handful of other new students spaced sporadically along the line, and Bofur and Arabella walked up to the nearest dwarf.

"Hello! Here for registration, are you?" She said, smiling brightly. She had a lovely braided chinstrap beard and long hair, with a milkmaid braid running along her crown.

"Yes indeed." Bofur clapped a hand on Arabella's shoulder, "This here is Bella Baggins."

"Arabella, actually."

The welcoming dwarf perused the list in front of her, "Baggins, Baggins, Baggins... Ah, here we are, Arabella Baggins, floor 77, room 11. You'll be Birzul, with several other new students." She handed her a key with a leather tag attached, '7711' stamped on it. "And you," she asked, looking at Bofur.

"Ah, I'm already registered. Bofur, son of Bogur." He held out his hand.

She took it. "Vílis, daughter of Varis." Arabella saw Vílis' cheeks turn a light pink when, instead of shaking it, Bofur brought her hand to his mouth and laid a kiss upon her knuckles.

"Enchanted," he purred. Arabella rolled her eyes.

Vílis smiled, retrieved her hand, and held out an thin booklet. "Well, Bella, here is your orientation information. Enjoy your time at Erebor Academy!"

As they moved toward the next dwarf in line, Arabella asked Bofur, "If you are already registered, why did you come down here? Why not go straight to your room?"

"Well," he said, smiling, "perhaps I just wanted to spend more time in your company." He threw her a wink, the picture of casual charm.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You are quite the smooth talker. I shall have to beware of you in future."

"Oh, I hope you won't."

Before long, she had a stack of uniform clothing, a thick square of paper as her Academy Identification, and a box of books. She juggled these as a runner lead her through tunnels and up stairs, finally entering a lift-box that would take her to her floor. As she exited, Bofur caught her arm.

"It was good to meet you, Bella Baggins. If you need anything, I'm only one floor up." With that he let the gate close, and the lift-box started to rise again.

"It's Arabella!" she called up to him. He laughed.

Letting out an amused sigh, she turned and followed the runner to her new room, thanked him as he set down her trunk and left, and looked around.

The room was not large, though that may have been the effect of the three beds, three desks, and three wardrobes occupying the space. There was a large, beautiful polished mirror on one wall, bookshelves on another, and three small washbasins on a third. The ceilings were high, the floors lined with warm-coloured wood, and the walls were stone carved with intricate geometric patterns.

Dumping the items in her arms onto the bed nearest the bookshelves, Arabella smiled.

 _Well, better get started,_ she thought.

She began to unpack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there it is, the first chapter. Thanks for reading! Not sure when I'll have the next one up, but hopefully it won't be too long. See you soon!


	2. In Which We Can Presume That Most Of Arabella's Hobbit Friends Are Lads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Despite her expression, beautiful was the only word Arabella could think of to describe the dwarf now stood in front of her. With hair a shade darker even than Kíli's, almond shaped sapphire eyes, a long, straight nose, and a set of plush-looking cupid's bow lips, she was stunning. She had a neatly trimmed goatee around her mouth, and her incredible hair hung loose nearly to her waist. If anyone had asked Arabella to picture a dwarven princess a week ago,_ this _was the image she would have conjured up._

Arabella stared dumbfounded at the clothes laid out on her bed. The bed, though of a proper height, was long and wide enough to sleep a man-sized person comfortably, which made sense considering the number of humans and elves that attended Erebor Academy. 

Just now she was quite grateful for the size of the bed, since she wasn’t sure it would all fit if it were any smaller.

_"Five_ uniforms?" she pondered aloud. "What in the world am I going to do with _five_ uniforms?"

"I imagine you’re supposed to wear them."

Arabella started, she hadn’t even heard the door open. 

In front of the door stood a young dwarf, perhaps even younger than Bofur, with blonde hair sheared close at the sides of her head, but left long on top. It was pulled into a high ponytail, and left to drape over her left shoulder. There was a small, thick patch of light-coloured beard on her chin, immaculately trimmed and maintained. She wore a long, flowing skirt, a bustier, and a short sleeved, high-buttoning shirt, all in stunning jewel tones. The shirt allowed her to show off her leanly muscled arms, indicative of hard work and skill.

Inexplicably, Arabella found herself blushing.

The stranger cleared her throat.

"Oh!" She suddenly realized she’d been staring. "Ah, sorry, er - Arabella Baggins, at your service!" She bowed.

The dwarf grinned, bowing as well. "Fíli, daughter of Thrain, at yours."

Arabella blinked. "Thrain. Isn’t he…?"

"The king, yes." Fíli smiled.

Another blink. "Oh! Well, that must be very nice for you." She was not entire sure what one said to a princess. 

The dwarf laughed, "Yes, I suppose it is."

Arabella shifted from foot to foot. "Sorry, can I help you with anything?" _Why_ was there a princess in her room?

"Can you tell me if either of those are taken?" she asked, gesturing at the two remaining beds.

"Er, no. I Don’t believe so. I haven’t met either of my…" Fíli had crossed over to the bed closest to hers, lifting a trunk Arabella hadn’t seen before, and setting it down at the foot. 

"…Roommates. Ah. Sorry, but, just now, when you said your father was the king?"

"Yes?"

"That _does_ mean you’re a princess, right? I haven’t got that wrong, have I? Only, hobbits don’t _have_ kings or queens or princesses and all that so I’m not sure—"

Fíli was laughing. Arabella wasn’t sure if she ought to be affronted or not. 

"Yes, yes, I’m a princess." She opened her trunk. "And before you ask, yes, I am really rooming here. Yes, I have rooms at the palace. They are much too far from the Academy to be convenient, however." She pulled out a white cotton shirt and slim looking trousers, dyed a deep blue.

"That… makes sense." It didn’t. But then, perhaps princesses were not as big a deal as all her books had made them out to be. She would reserve judgement, until she met some more.

"Is this your first year at the Academy?" Fíli asked, unbuttoning her shirt without so much as a by-your-leave.

"Yes, it is. You?"

Fíli nodded. "My twin sister Kíli and I are both starting this year. A little early, maybe, but I think our mother wanted us out of her hair." She laughed and unlaced her bustier. She let out a happy sigh as the tight garment loosened.

"Twin sister?" Arabella shook her head exasperatedly. "Just how many princesses are there in this mountain?"

"Four." Oh dear, there went her skirt.

_"Four?"_

"And one prince. I’m sure you’ll meet them all, we’re all attending the Academy." Fíli now stood in only her undergarments. _Dwarven_ undergarments, which Arabella immediately decided were _entirely immodest_. "Of course," she added, "that’s not counting Prince Legolas of the Greenwood. He started last year."

"Th-That is utterly ridiculous," she stammered, attempting to tear her eyes away from Fíli’s seeming acres of smooth, tan skin. "Who would put so many royals under one roof? Surely that is just asking for trouble." She was frankly amazed she’d been able to string together a sentence, considering the only word she seemed capable of thinking at the moment was _’abdominals’_.

Fíli snorted, finally, _finally_ pulling on her trousers. "Erebor is the safest kingdom in Middle Earth, and the Academy is the second safest part of Erebor, besides the palace. Best place for royal spawn, really."

As Fíli settled her shirt on her shoulders, Arabella’s mind fought briefly over whether to give a sigh of relief or a pout. She settled on neither, and instead turned her head back to own bed, and the uniforms neatly laid out upon it.

_Oh,_ now _you can look away, when she’s finally got her clothes on,_ she scolded herself. _This year is going to be a nightmare you bloody randy hobbit!_

"I was just going to head down the hall to see how Kíli is settling in. Would you like to join me?" Fíli asked, re-lacing her tall boots.

"Oh!" said Arabella, once again raising her head to face Fíli. "Yes, that would be nice."

As they headed out the door and down the hall, Fíli asked, "So what was your problem with the uniforms, anyway? You seemed quite miffed about it."

Arabella cast her mind back. "Ah, it's just that there are five of them. Who in the world needs _five_ different uniforms, in five _different_ styles?" she asked. "Seems a tad excessive. At Shireland Prepatorie, the students all just wore the same coloured smock."

"Well there you have it. We can't just throw our uniform on over our regular clothing, so it makes sense to have a set for each day of the week," she replied. "As for the styles—well, I don't really know about that. But I suppose the style of the uniform doesn't matter so much as the colors, since they identify your house."

That was a reasonable explanation, Arabella decided. And another thing, "Why are there different—er, houses, was it? Are roommates determined by house?"

Fíli thought a moment. "No, they're mixed. What are you?"

"Birzul."

"Me as well, but if our third is Birzul it'll be a coincidence, not by design."

"Classes, then?"

Fíli shook her head. "No, classes are based on skill level." She now looked slightly perturbed. "Why _do_ we have houses...?"

Before they could speculate further, Fíli tripped over something and nearly went crashing headlong into the floor. Arabella grabbed one of the dwarf's _incredibly toned_ arms with both hands, Fíli's superior height and weight nearly causing her to lose her footing.

They looked at the unexpected obstruction. 

"Kíli? What the hell are you doing on the floor?"

Sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall of the corridor, was a dwarf. She was dressed similarly to Fíli, though her trousers were soft brown leather, and her shirt had grass stains at the elbows. She had long black hair, messily pulled into a bun, which sat nearly on the top of her head. Her beard was little more than a dusting of hair on the sides of her face and along her jaw. Her nose, while not the button nose which hobbits were renowned for, was certainly smaller that Fíli's, and not as straight, though they had nearly the same shade of deep blue eyes.

Arabella looked up at Fíli. _"This_ is your twin? You look almost nothing alike!"

The dwarf on the floor looked at her. "Who's this?" she asked Fíli.

"We're sororal twins, not identical. And this, Kíli, is my roommate Bella Baggins." 

_"Ara_ bella."

"Now," Fíli continued, ignoring her, _"what_ are you doing on the ground?" Fíli put her hands on her hips.

Kíli muttered, "They roomed me with Thorin."

Fíli looked confused. "Why?"

"I'm blaming it on Dís." Kíli rolled her eyes. _"She_ suggested to Amad that I would get into less trouble if I were put with an older student, and of course _Amad_ thought the best person for the job was _Thorin_ you _know_ Amad always gets what she wants and now I'm stuck with her for the _whole year!"_

Kíli let her head thunk back against the stone wall. Arabella winced.

Fíli smirked, clearly unsympathetic. "That still doesn't explain what you're doing out here."

"She kicked me out," Kíli groaned. "And I forgot which room was yours."

Fíli grinned broadly. "Aww, poor _baby."_ She pounded on the door next to Kíli, then reached for the knob. "Thorin you ass, why'd you dump your darling sister-" The door opened, and Arabella missed the rest of whatever Fíli was saying. She had come face to—er—well, she was greeted by what could possibly be the most perfect arse she had ever seen. An arse clothed in dark black trousers she was fairly certain had been _painted on._ It was attached to a pair of exquisite legs, which ended in a pair of leather boots with two inch heels. 

She may have drooled a bit. 

The person who owned the afforementioned rear straightened from picking up a piece of fabric from the floor and _sweet merciful mother of hobbits._

"Fíli!" growled the vision before Arabella, a scowl on her face _(her beautiful face)_. "Shut the damn door!"

Despite her expression, beautiful was the only word Arabella could think of to describe the dwarf now stood in front of her. With hair a shade darker even than Kíli's, almond shaped sapphire eyes, a long, straight nose, and a set of plush-looking cupid's bow lips, she was stunning. She had a neatly trimmed goatee around her mouth, and her incredible hair hung loose nearly to her waist. If anyone had asked Arabella to picture a dwarven princess a week ago, _this_ was the image she would have conjured up.

_Beautiful,_ she thought, _stunning, regal, and—_

Completely naked from the waist up.

Thorin's scowl turned on Arabella. "Who is this?"

Kíli poked her head around the door frame. "That's Bella, Fíli's roommate."

"Kíli!" Thorin snapped. "Shut. The. Door."

Fíli was still grinning. "Bella, meet my oldest sister, Crown Princess Thorin, daughter of Thrain."

Thorin crossed to the door and slammed it shut, but not before Kíli slipped inside and sat on her bed. 

Arabella stared fixedly at the floor, desperate to not be caught staring once more. It was difficult, expecially when Thorin turned to look at her. They were _right there._ Right in front of her and they were _perfect,_ and attached to a _perfect_ body which was attached to a _perfect_ face and she did not know what she had done in a past life to earn this kind of torture.

Thorin directed a question to Fíli, standing behind her.

"Is it supposed to be that colour?"

She froze. _**It?**_

_"I beg your pardon?"_ Perhaps not quite so perfect.

Fíli's head popped over Thorin's shoulder. "You are looking quite red, Bella."

"It's _Arabella_. And did you-" she poked a finger into Thorin's chest _(breast chest, chest with breasts)_ "just call me _it?"_

Thorin looked stunned. "No, I-"

She interrupted, "I am a hobbit, _and_ a Baggins, and _gentlewoman_ of the Shire, not some creature crawled from under a rock. I don't care if you're a princess, _I_ don't care if you're the Empress of all Middle Earth, where do you suppose you get the right to talk to people that way?!"

Then she made the mistake of glancing down, and she lost her train of thought. 

She was sure she was bright red still, this time from anger. "And at least _I_ do not go prancing around half naked!"

Thorin glared at her. _"You_ barged into _my_ room-"

"You are holding a bloody shirt _in your hands!_ Honestly!"

Thorin took a step toward her. They were practically chest to ch—nose to nose. "If I want to spend all my time in my room naked then I don't see how it's any of your concern!"

"I'd really rather you didn't."

"Shut up, Kíli!"

Arabella let out a frustrated scream. She decided to quit while she was ahead. She turned to the door.

She had her hand on the knob when she (rather belatedly) remembered her manners.

Turning back to the room, she bobbed a curtsy. "It was nice to meet you, Kíli, Thorin. Good day." She left three astonished dwarves behind her and shut the door.

She leaned against the wall, let out a sigh, and closed her eyes, trying to calm her heartbeat.

As if seared to the inside of her eyelids, the image of Thorin's flawless body appeared before her eyes. 

Arabella groaned. She should never have left the Shire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh poor Bella. Stuck in a mountain with a bunch of women with zero sense of modesty or personal boundaries.
> 
> Tauriel was supposed to be in this chapter, but I didn't get around to her. Next time!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Artwork for Erebor](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5568511) by [Stonnn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stonnn/pseuds/Stonnn)




End file.
